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Junior Casting Manager

Yes, pretty new in the job, still counting in months, if you know what I mean. Used to assist casting for toothpaste miracle testimonials. So much easier, ethically. But try looking at six toothy grins per minute, three angles each, for eight hours a day, twelve in emergency recruitment mode, for more than a year… Just try it, before blaming me.

Campetition is evil, ok, not arguing with that statement. But that’s just your normal, globalisation-does-this-to-people-all-the-time variant of evil, ok? It’s actually far more honest than my old job. Teeth don’t grow bigger and more even through brushing, right? See what I mean? Advertising is one big storytelling hoax. Whereas in Campetition, people do win. Very few people, as in two, ok. They don’t win much, from our point of view, sure. We’ve already got the passport, the wealthy parents, the education, you name it…

Your parents aren’t wealthy? Cool! Mine are, and they expect me to earn a living, for all the studying they sponsored.

Anyway, yes, Campetition is evil. Like the pole dancing task for the girls. We use it in casting, to weed out the shy ones. That’s really, really bad. No one should be forced to pole dance. But now listen to this: They never even complain. None of the girls. Never.

We’ve of course got an agony aunt, official title stage intimacy counsellor. the agony aunt, she’s present at all times, not just for the sexy scenes. Ours is a clean stage and backstage, we won’t feature in no #metoo scenario. And guess what? The lady in question is bored stiff, because none of the girls talk to her. Full blown bore out candidate, the poor shrinkess, and crying on my shoulder about it.

The girls, they see the dresses they are supposed to wear, very revealing dresses, very tight. Are they going ‘Eek, rampant sexism, down with male chauvinism’? Nope. They go all happy happy wild.

Just yesterday one asked me ‘Madam, any chance I can keep this robe?’. ‘Madam’! Never was I so embarrassed before, really didn’t know where to look. And the so-called robe, it was more negligee than dress, revealing lots matching underwear, all laces.

I told the girl to please call me Beo, and never ever madam again, and asked her if her mom wouldn’t be aghast, at seeing her in this kind of undress-dress. And guess what happens? She laughs, pulls out her phone and shows me her Instagram. Turns out she has a gig as a dessous model, for her mom, who sells sexy wear.

Meaning to say, it’s all a question of perspective.

If they get to keep the dresses? Of course not, we’re one a budget. Meaning the girls always have to dress before makeup, and they get de-makeupped before they can change back into their own clothes. Always feel sorry for them, when I see them shivering and rubbing their bare arms to feel warmer. We really should provide them with towels, bathrobes, something to keep them warmer, I think. Will say this, once I make senior casting manager.

I really do need the money, you know? Don’t we all? Just saying.

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